Zam Bonk Dip’s errant and happy song exerts a pull which is a centrifugal and impalpable force, seeming to adhere to a world unseen or athwart us; and this coiling over and through the flesh of language presents an envelopment with no space for the restless phantoms of a world which an alternative, penetrating negativity might have laid out from above: the pull exerted haywires forwards and back.

Alight here, and see how it steps backwards.

Each Tiplady song advances its intricate sequence – subsuming proper nouns, more familiar rhetorical patterns, mis-usage. The result is a hollowed out writing given this form by scraps of transforming song which chase after each other in non-clarifying indistinction. This hollowness comes as a relief, for each joyful turn, haphazard rhyme or momentary crystallization of sense is focused and repelled by the run onwards, allowing a space to think the lines by which borders and passages are constructed in language, or the way in which they can be created and pulled apart or perhaps "bounced".